


Where do we begin?

by yourringofkeys



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Pupcake!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 20:44:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9343130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourringofkeys/pseuds/yourringofkeys
Summary: Wow! I actually finished this! Sorry it took so long!





	1. Chapter 1

Patsy had never been enthusiastic about her words. It wasn’t because of their nature, or topic, or anything like that, for they were plain and simple. Not slightly embarrassing like her father’s (“Please tell me you didn’t take the toilets, too” when her mother had run into him after a prank he and his friends had played), not sad like her childhood best friend’s (“You’ve just said my words, but I can’t—”) and not absent like the main character’s in a book she’d read once, who it turned out had lost her words when she lost a finger as a baby. No, Patsy’s words weren’t especially interesting, and Patsy wasn’t especially interested in finding their source. She didn’t know exactly why, but her defensive apathy had begun sometime in her teens, when she had realized that in some unidentifiable way she wasn’t like everybody else.

It had probably started, Patsy figured, when everyone else had started to get excited about their soulmates and she hadn’t. All the girls Patsy knew in school would gaze longingly at boys whenever they all went into town, exclaiming about their hair and their faces and inevitably being too shy to talk to them—for what if they were their soulmates? What if they weren’t? All of Patsy’s friends seemed bent on finding the boy they were meant to be with, and although Patsy couldn’t deny that there was one for her too, based on the words on her skin, she never could seem to get excited about it. It was supposed to be a step in the soulmate process, this attraction from afar to good-looking boys, but since Patsy had never quite felt it, she wasn’t looking forward to the part where she was expected to find a specific boy to spend her life with.

Trixie and Barbara, both hopeless romantics, loved the idea and looked forward to it enough to make up for Patsy’s lack of enthusiasm. However, they were perplexed when she reluctantly showed them her words, as they didn’t seem to fit the woman whose body they occupied.

“‘Repeat that?’” said Trixie. “Patsy, how could you have ‘repeat that’ tattooed on your skin? You have the loudest and clearest voice I’ve ever known!”

“Maybe her soulmate is hard of hearing,” suggested Barbara kindly. “Or maybe you’ll meet him somewhere loud.”

“Maybe you’ll tell him something absolutely ridiculous!” said Trixie. “You should just go up to whatever nice-looking man you see and spout nonsense. Then he’ll have to ask you to repeat it.”

“Yes, maybe,” said Patsy, trying to push down the fear that arrived without warning, after she pictured it. What was the matter with her? Everyone wanted to find their soulmate! Even standoffish Patsy Mount was supposed to want this. Only somehow, she didn’t.

“You know,” Trixie said, “You should probably try to speak a little softer. Less clearly? Plenty of opportunity there!”

Where did they think her no-nonsense speech had come from in the first place? Patsy had been soft-spoken until her teens, when she had talked to a random boy on a dare who her friends deemed handsome. “Hello, nice weather we’ve been having,” she had mumbled, and when he responded, “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” Patsy had realized that to prevent more close calls like that one, to prevent the dread that instinctively rose in her stomach at his initial confused expression, she would have to make sure she would never find herself in that kind of situation again. And so, Patsy Mount became clear and specific whenever she opened her mouth, good at giving directions and being heard by all the first time. Everyone knew that she knew what she wanted, but only she knew the reason: that she knew what she didn’t want, although she hadn’t quite figured out why.


	2. Chapter 2

Delia looked forward to meeting her soulmate. After all, it was what was right and what would complete her. She was sure she would feel an instant connection with the man who said her words, and was excited to learn what her life would bring when she met him. That was why she was perplexed on the rainy, gloomy day when her entire world was supposed to change.

“I can’t believe some people! Utterly ridiculous!” said the stranger, after a large woman had bumped into him while walking down the sidewalk. Delia blinked, and stopped him, grabbing his arm, knowing that whatever she said would be right. She wildly looked for something to say, then decided on “And it’s raining.”

Now it was his turn to stop, and blink, and eventually smile, and say, “Let’s get out of this weather, then.”

They ducked into a nearby store. “Well,” said the man. “My name is Ronald. You said my words. And I’m assuming I said yours.”

He was kind-looking, and he had dark blonde hair, and he looked tentatively ecstatic. And he had said— wait a minute— he had said almost—

“Didn’t I?” He looked scared for a moment. Delia didn’t know what to do next, so she simply rolled up her sleeve and showed him the words on her skin. I cannot believe some people. Utterly ridiculous. Was this something that mattered? It was so slight, and—

He showed her his words, right there on his arm, And it’s raining, and Delia pushed the doubt out of her mind, since there could be no other alternative. Maybe she had misheard a contraction in the confusion of the weather—that must have been it. Because there on his body were words she had said, and they had been there his whole life, and they were there because she, Delia Busby, had opened her mouth and complained about the weather. It was wondrous.

Ronald was incredibly kind, and Delia was over the moon that she had found him, she had found the one, and they were talking about their parents, and his last name was Charton, and she was giggling at a story he was telling about a pet frog he had attempted to keep, and he was smiling, and everything was perfect.

~.~

They began dating, trying to get to know one another a bit before their lives inevitably revolved around each other. Delia learned that Ronald could be very quiet, but that he was funny in a way she loved, and that he loved music. He learned that she was a nurse, and that she could be fierce, and that she had a sweet tooth. She was still in the process of getting used to kissing him, but reassured herself that it would become better with time. And he was so kind and a gentleman. Delia almost wrote home and told her mother, but something stopped her. It was probably that she wanted to keep it a surprise, since that kind of wonderful news was best told in person because she would be able to see her mother’s reaction that way. Yes, it was much better to wait to tell her. She would get to know Ronald better in the meantime, so that when she told her parents she would be able to describe him in detail and with familiarity. Everything was going along so smoothly. This was why, one day just after work, Delia’s encounter with another stranger came as a wild shock.


	3. Chapter 3

“Would you mind terribly bringing this paperwork over to the hospital?” asked Trixie. “I know you have to check on Mrs. Soren, and her flat is right nearby.”

“Not at all,” said Patsy. “But as long as we’re giving our duties to others, would you drop Mrs. Brown’s medicine off with her? Since you’re going to be in that area and all?”

“Consider it done,” said Trixie, and called, “Don’t forget to mumble!” as Patsy left, which she did everyday. Patsy didn’t mind most of the time, because she knew that Trixie wanted her to be happy, and that she showed her love for her friends by teasing them. So Patsy didn’t take offense, or let it trouble her. She didn’t take Trixie’s advice, though, and she didn’t plan on ever doing so. Patsy never mumbled. The possible consequences were too scary.

Trixie’s paperwork had to go to a part of the hospital that Patsy had never visited before, but she delivered it with no trouble and intended to leave immediately when something caught her eye. It was a young man yelling at a nurse, and his entitled tone of voice made Patsy’s blood boil. The poor nurse looked scared, but as Patsy stormed over, ready to give the man a piece of her mind, the woman began to stand a bit taller.

“My appointment was for 2:00!” the man yelled. “It is 2:04 and I demand that the doctor see me immediately! I know you’re just a nurse, but surely you women have ways of convincing the doctor of things.” He leered, and Patsy wanted to smack him across the face.

The nurse flushed, and Patsy noted for some reason how pretty she looked. “I do not appreciate the way you are speaking to me, sir, I have told you multiple times that the doctor will see you when he is ready, but until then you’re just going to have to sit down and hold your tongue!”

The man did sit down, and the pretty nurse bustled away angrily. Patsy was shocked, though approving of the woman, and it took her a second to register that the woman was bustling towards her. She wanted to acknowledge her somehow, to show her appreciation for this woman’s attitude. What came out of her mouth was, “I cannot believe some people. Utterly ridiculous.”

The nurse opened her mouth to say something, then stopped. She blinked at Patsy, shook her head, and looked very confused. “Repeat that,” she said.

Wait a minute, thought Patsy. Wait a minute.


	4. Chapter 4

Delia was confused. Very confused. The pretty redheaded nurse was looking at her with an expression that seemed confused as well, which could mean—did it mean—

“Well,” said the woman.

“Um,” said Delia.

“Er,” said the woman.

“I—” they said at the same time. And then they were quiet.

Delia was trying to think about what this could mean, what it had to mean. She’d memorized the words on her skin long ago, and she knew that what she’d just heard lacked a contraction, just as it was supposed to. But Ron had said nearly her words, and she had definitely said his. But maybe she had said this woman’s.

“I did ask you to repeat it!” Delia said, attempting to sound cheerful. “Did you say I cannot believe?”

“Yes, I did,” said the nurse kindly. She looked as though she was regaining composure. 

“Well, you see,” explained Delia, “My…” and then she trailed off.

She realized that she couldn’t be sure. She hadn’t ever heard of two women being soulmates—that wasn’t what was supposed to happen. And yet the nurse had said exactly her words, with no confusing contractions, while she couldn’t say that about Ron. And the nurse was different somehow, and Delia wanted suddenly to know her in a way she couldn’t put her finger on. But what was she supposed to say? It couldn’t be a coincidence that the woman had said her words, but that was no guarantee that the woman’s own words were a request for repetition. Perhaps something was wrong with Delia specifically, a fluke that mixed up her soulmate and made everything difficult. Perhaps her words were lying, because the alternative was that everything she’d ever known was a lie: each man has words on his skin, and the woman who says them to him is his soulmate. Each woman has words on her skin, and the man who says them to her is her soulmate. That was just how it was. It sometimes led to heartache, depending on whose words people had, but it usually led to happiness. That was the general rule, and it was supposed to work. Maybe Delia should walk away, and continue working, and then meet Ron after work and get better at kissing him. Maybe she should forget this weird interaction, this disturbance in the way things were supposed to be.

And yet, there was a definite part of her that insisted that this was how things were supposed to be. And the alternative to that was that her words were wrong, and no one’s words were wrong, so she should probably just ask. The words were right there, on Delia’s body—this woman couldn’t blame her for asking, even if it did turn out not to matter. Even if it did turn out to be nothing more than a funny coincidence.

“Er,” said Delia, plucking up courage. “This is going to sound quite strange, but you said my words, which I know is rather different, but I just thought I’d—”

“Oh!” said the redhead. “Well you’ve definitely said mine, too, so there’s that, as well.”

“Well, what do we—what do we do about this?” said Delia. What about Ron? she thought. “I don’t know if it’s correct, but there’s no way to find out exactly.”

“Correct?”

“Well, you know...”

“Of course,” said the woman. Her eyes looked deep somehow, but Delia tried not to look at them for too long. “Only I feel as though perhaps—well. My name’s Patsy. That seems as good a way to begin as any.”

“Right! I’m Delia,” said Delia. 

“Should we talk about this somewhere else?” asked Patsy. “I’ve finished with my work here but I think perhaps we should figure this out still.”

“I agree,” said Delia. Did she agree? Her heart was racing with nervousness, and this woman—Patsy—would only increase her anxiousness. But she was intrigued, and she couldn’t possibly just let her leave without understanding this monumental thing.

“Can you come now?” Patsy said. “I could meet you later, if you still have to work for a bit.”

Did that sound like a good idea? Delia wasn’t sure she could stand waiting. But the rational part of her knew that besides the fact that she did need to stay and work until she was done, it might be good to collect her thoughts alone before talking about this, rather than in the presence of Patsy Who Had Said Her Words. If they went now, she wouldn’t have any idea what to say.

“Yes,” she said, deciding. “We could meet at lunch, if you’re not busy around then.”

“No,” said Patsy, looking at her in a contemplative sort of way. “I’m not busy at all.”


	5. Chapter 5

Well, it was lunchtime. Actually, it was a bit too early for lunchtime, so not very many other people seemed to be in the restaurant. But Patsy was here, in the tucked away booth by the lavatory, because she was Patsy and she was always on time. And Delia was—not on time. It was ten minutes past time. Patsy was starting to think about fidgeting. Maybe Delia didn’t want a woman for a soulmate—it was understandable. They would never be able to prove that they had said each other’s words, would probably be called insane if they tried to claim that it was so. They would have to hide their relationship, pretend to be eternally searching for different partners—it was hard, and would hurt. Patsy wasn’t sure how she felt about it, but she admitted to herself that she wanted very much to try. It made sense, of course, the way that she had been her whole life, and the way she had felt when Delia had said, “Repeat that.” But never mind that she was a woman, what if Delia didn’t want Patsy for a soulmate? Patsy, with her no-nonsense attitude she was sure people found annoying, and the punctuality that Trixie, at least, found annoying, and how she cared so much about everything, which she herself found very annoying. She couldn’t know that Delia wouldn’t want to be with her, though! She couldn’t know anything of the kind until Delia showed up at the fish and chip shop, but she wasn’t here, and it was really Patsy’s fault for never once relaxing enough to show up any less than ten minutes early, and—

“Hello,” Delia looked shy, but was smiling.

“Hello,” said Patsy. “Have you been here before? They have the most superb fish and chips!”

“I haven’t,” said Delia. “But I happen to know that the most superb fish and chips are located on Wester Street, so I have to say I think you might be mistaken.”

“Is that so?” said Patsy. “Well I shall just have to try them sometime, then, won’t I?”

“I suppose you will,” said Delia. She was still smiling.

They ordered the fish and chips, and talked about the apathetic weather for much too long—it was London, and everything there was to be said about fog and rain had definitely been said before thousands of times. When the food came, Delia tried it and grinned, saying it was equal to the fish and chips on Wester Street—nothing more, nothing less. Patsy didn’t want to say again that she should try Delia’s favorite restaurant. It would probably be pushing it, coming on too strong. So an awkward silence began, and Patsy thought desperately of what to say to break it. But it was too quiet between them for her to think of anything; everything in her mind seemed to have gone to a mysterious and faraway place. Delia picked up her water glass and drank from it, which seemed like a good idea to Patsy. It was something to do, and would save her from sitting there still and looking stupid. So she drank from her water glass as well, and put it down, and then she realized how stupid it must have looked that she had had water right after Delia had. It must have looked like she was copying her! And of course she had been, but that was ridiculous and embarrassing. Actually, what was more ridiculous and embarrassing was how much she was thinking about their water glasses, and how much significance she was giving the whole thing. It didn’t matter at all, and she should get a grip! Actually, come to think of it, what was even more ridiculous and embarrassing was the fact that there was still an awkward silence, and she should probably say something, even if it was dumb, because it couldn’t be worse than not saying anything at all, so—

“The rain really is terrible.” Oh no. Not the rain again. Why had she said that?

“I know,” said Delia. “And it’s sad really, because I used to like the rain back home.”

“The rain didn’t change, did it?” said Patsy.

“No, of course not,” said Delia. “But when outside is green and pretty and rainy, that’s quite different from London! Here it’s just sad.”

“It’s nice being inside, though, when it’s rainy,” Patsy offered.

“Yes!” said Delia. “With tea, and a book of poems!”

“But of course,” said Patsy, and Delia smiled. Was she going to keep doing that? It made Patsy extraordinarily happy and extraordinarily sad at the same time, which added up to a very extraordinary kind of neutral. It was quite confusing, actually.

“My mam always knits when it’s raining,” said Delia. “And I suppose it’s very cosy for her. But I’m so awful at it that it makes me angry instead of relaxed.”

“Me too!” said Patsy. “I can’t abide knitting, or sewing, or embroidery, or anything of the sort!”

“Oh, sewing and embroidery are perfectly fun,” said Delia. “But knitting is somehow much more boring.”

“If you say so,” said Patsy. And there was a bit more awkward silence, but it was alright, because it was an interesting silence. And afterwards they started talking about work, and Delia was describing the matron at the hospital, and Patsy was laughing at the description, and Patsy was describing the nuns and the other midwives at Nonnatus House, and Delia was laughing at Trixie’s interest in Patsy’s words.  
“‘Don’t forget to mumble,’” Delia repeated. “How funny of her!”

“She’s kind, really,” said Patsy. “She only wants me to find somebody…” And she trailed off as she realized that the whole conversation was heading toward the elephant in the room.

“Well, you have, I suppose,” said Delia, steering them back towards the elephant. “Only... I don’t know about it.”

“You don’t?” said Patsy, as her heart sank.

“Well,” said Delia. “Maybe I do. You said my words, my exact words, and I said yours.”

“I know,” said Patsy.

“And you didn’t even need to mumble,” said Delia. “It worked out that way.”

“Yes,” said Patsy. “Yes, exactly. It doesn’t seem like the words should have worked, but—they did.”

“Right,” said Delia. “It’s just that—well obviously, this is different.”

“Of course,” said Patsy. “If I weren’t a woman, that would simplify things greatly for you.”

“Not just for me!” said Delia. “Or have you already completely accepted it?”

“I don’t know,” said Patsy. “But I think it makes sense for me. I’ve always felt a bit different, without having a particular reason. And now that I do, I understand things a bit better.”

“So you think this is it?” said Delia, sounding incredulous. “You think it’s us?”

Patsy didn’t say anything. She looked down at her remaining chips in slight despair, hoping that this was really it and it was her and Delia. Even though that probably meant she was crazy, since they were both women and no one would ever believe them.

“I’m sorry,” said Delia. “I didn’t mean—”

“No, I understand,” said Patsy. “Really, it’s alright.” Although it didn’t feel alright.

“No,” said Delia. “Really, this might be it. This might make sense.” 

"Maybe we could see," said Patsy.

"See?" said Delia. And then she seemed to have a thought. “Yes, let's see. Can we go over there?” she asked, standing up and indicating the hallway leading to the lavatory. And Patsy followed her into the hallway, and into the bathroom, until they were where no one could see them and were standing, once again awkward, in between close and far apart.

“I’m usually quite sensible,” said Patsy. “But I’m afraid I’m at a loss for words.”

“I’m not usually sensible,” said Delia. “But I’m especially not sensible now.”

“We're in the lavatory,” asked Patsy, because it was all she could think to say.

“I just thought that perhaps we could see,” said Delia, and she took a step closer, and Patsy stepped closer to her.

It was quiet again, but not silent, because they were shifting positions and breathing and fidgeting, although still not touching. Until Patsy made another definitely not sensible decision, noting to herself that it was the fault of her words as she leaned in to kiss Delia.

It wasn’t a very long kiss, but it was long enough for Delia to put her arms around Patsy’s neck, and for Patsy to notice that she was decidedly being kissed back.

But then Delia pulled away, and looked down, and said “well” and “oh dear” and “I think I need to go.”

“Delia,” said Patsy. “You don’t have to go.”

“No, I do,” said Delia. “I need to go and figure everything out.” And she started to move towards the door.

“Are you coming back?” asked Patsy.

“I don’t know,” said Delia. And she left fast.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I actually finished this! Sorry it took so long!

Delia walked quickly down the street, not knowing where exactly she was going. She couldn’t believe anything that had just happened. Patsy had kissed her, and she’d very much enjoyed it during the two seconds before she had realized that her enjoyment should probably be cause for something like alarm. She had kissed back anyway, and put her arms around Patsy’s neck, and then the alarm had kicked in. Now she was walking, mind racing, feeling decidedly confused.

Their words matched up, and Patsy was special, and their kiss had been magnificent. So, that meant that they were soulmates. Soulmates! It was amazing! Ron had made her feel special, and was so kind and likable, but he hadn’t made her feel the way she was feeling right now about Patsy. Who was a woman.

Delia turned right and walked down a little street with a bookstore on the corner. She felt slightly self-conscious, but she tried to ignore it and walk normally. She tried to look in shop windows for as long as the average person might.

It was clearly possible; the words were right, and Delia’s feelings were what she supposed were textbook just-met-one’s-soulmate feelings. Not that she would know about anyone else. They were perfect feelings, though, in a way, surprisingly perfect considering the fact that the world would think it was the complete opposite—abnormal, wrong, impure. Patsy was her soulmate, Patsy was her soulmate, Patsy was her soulmate, but maybe it ultimately didn’t matter. They wouldn’t be able to get married or have children, which Delia had always wanted for as long as she could remember. 

A man walked out of a restaurant and looked at her appraisingly; she hurried out of the way. The sky was grey and steadily getting greyer. A bird flew from a roof to another roof.

Were soulmates really everything? Maybe not. And Ron was almost her soulmate anyway. He hadn’t said her precise words, but the ones that he had said couldn’t be an accident. But maybe they could be an accident. But they probably couldn’t be an accident…  
On and on her thoughts went like this, spinning and spinning.

A little girl in a shockingly blue dress pushed a tiny toy carriage in front of her with a doll in it, and a man about Delia’s age followed her. The girl was probably four, and she walked decisively and with gusto. A woman rode nearby on a bicycle, balancing a greasy looking bag between the handlebars.The sky was grey, and everything was grey, and Delia didn’t know what to do.

“JAMES, WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?” cried a voice from high up, inside an apartment on Delia’s right side. Delia turned her head to look. The man and the girl turned to look. The woman on the bicycle turned to look, but she didn’t stop.  
There was a crash as the woman collided with the carriage, and Delia’s heart jumped at the sound. The carriage tipped onto its side, and the doll fell out from inside it. The girl was knocked onto her bottom, and she began to cry loudly. The voice from the apartment had gone silent. Delia stood frozen, and the woman on the bicycle stopped too, staring at the little girl.

The man reached out to her. “Caroline! Caroline, are you alright?” he said, and there was so much fear in his voice that Delia felt tears form in her eyes. 

Caroline looked up, sniffled, wiped her nose with her hand, and picked her doll up from the ground. “Clarisa sad and hurted, Daddy!” she proclaimed, holding the doll out to the man. 

“But you’re alright?” he asked. He picked Caroline up and gently set her on her feet, and when she stayed, he sighed. “You’re alright,” he said, then turned to the woman on the bicycle, who was still gaping at the scene. “Ma’am, I understand that accidents happen, but I would certainly advise you to be careful on your bicycle in the future.”

The woman looked at him a minute, unblinking. Then, she started pedaling off into the distance incredibly fast. The man looked shocked, and stared after her, then realized Delia was still there. “I simply can’t believe some people. How utterly ridiculous!” he said to her.

Oh. Oh! Oh, no. Not again. This couldn’t be happening again. These variations couldn’t be a coincidence, right? But they also could. Who knew? The man was waiting for her to say something, but she couldn’t. What if what she said ended up being his words? That would make everything so much more complicated, and the situation had already been tearing Delia’s stomach apart. But he would think her rude, no better than the woman who had knocked into his daughter’s carriage and left without a word. And she should really say something, because if she was possibly his soulmate, it was only fair for them both to know it. She would! She would say something!

“Ridiculous, yes, ridiculous—very! Very ridiculous!” she said, and thought, really? and then waited. But the man’s eyes didn’t widen, and he didn’t do a double take, or look surprised at all.

“Daddy!” said Caroline again, pulling on his sleeve. “Daddy, Clarisa’s hurting!”

He looked down at her fondly, and took the doll from her outstretched hand. “I think she’s alright,” he said.

Delia, suddenly, felt possessed by the need to help. “Here,” she said. “Here, I’m a nurse. I’ll look at her.” She took Clarisa after a nod from Caroline’s father, held her up to look at her in the tidbit of sunlight there was, and smoothed her doll hair with her left hand. “She’s as good as new,” she proclaimed, and handed her back to Caroline, who stared at her wonderingly. The man smiled at her, and thanked her, and started to walk away, pushing the carriage as his daughter walked alongside him, still holding her doll.

Delia looked at them for a minute, then turned around. Right, she thought. She started walking, too.  
~.~  
Patsy was still at the restaurant, sitting at the booth looking crushed. Delia couldn’t believe that she had done that. She really was terrible at sorting herself out.

Patsy looked up, though, and her smile made Delia forget what she had been thinking. Delia walked toward the booth and sat down, put her hands on the table, and leaned forward just slightly.

“You’re back,” said Patsy, squeezing her hands for the shortest of seconds.

“Yes,” said Delia. “I am.”

**Author's Note:**

> (The title is supposed to be a reference to Sick of Losing Soulmates by Dodie Clark)


End file.
